


The Therapy Sessions: Part 1: Countdown to The Wedding From Hell

by killajokejosie



Series: To Live And Die In Holmes [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fluff and Angst, Humor, I could probably tag the heck out of this, John is a hot head, Lestrade takes damage to the crotch, M/M, Mpreg, POV John Watson, Therapy, Umbrellas, court ordered, talk fast, think slow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-09 08:30:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1143810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killajokejosie/pseuds/killajokejosie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After an interesting police involved...event...at a museum, John and Sherlock are forced to go to three therapy sessions. Despite them needing to get to the bottom of why they caused a ruckus, everything else comes forward and causing problems.</p><p>(Terrible summary, but yeah...)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Therapy Sessions: Part 1: Countdown to The Wedding From Hell

**Author's Note:**

> American, bored, and lacking a beta...I am sorry about that.

The therapist stared at us with all of the understanding of a small rodent. She was probably wondering why the hell she got us. A number of things were sure to be running through her head from  _why, oh why do I have to deal with these two nutters?,_ to my personal favorite,  _what could possibly have brought these two polar opposites together in the first place?_ Needless to say, that would probably be the one thing we would not be discussing today. 

I looked around the room for a distraction. This whole thing was driving me completely bonkers. I would have done anything to get out of it, but it was court ordered. The whole reason we were sitting here was ludicrous. There was no way to get me to open up to someone after all of this. I had spent enough time in a therapist's office after returning from Afghanistan. 

Sherlock's breathing was shallow. He couldn't stop fidgeting and I swore that he was cursing the woman in front of us under his breath. That was all fine and dandy, maybe he would go as far as to be himself and get us escorted from the building(his area of expertise). I certainly would have been okay with all of that. We hadn't really talked much about the situation that involved us getting arrested, just pushed it to the side.

"Are either of you going to speak? Perhaps, you could start by introducing yourselves?" The therapist's words cut me. I was not a fan of her tone. Who did she think she was?

"You already know who we are, it is all in your file on your lap. You also know why we are here. This is the first of three mandated visits, all of which you will claim were full of breakthroughs when in reality we will sit in unbroken silence." Sherlock told her in a weirdly beautiful monotone.

"You have to say something. I am required to send some sort of report to the courts. If you refuse to speak, it can be a negative one." She explained. "And a negative one could result in the addition of appointments."

"Out of curiousity, what does the paperwork actually say about us?" Sherlock asked, his eyes trying to read upside down like I had been for the last five minutes.

"It says very simply that you are Sherlock Holmes, a consulting private detective, and your partner is John Watson, a former military man and a doctor, and that the two of you live together. It goes on to say that the two of you are required to be here because you grabbed John by the shoulders, screaming. The two of you proceeded to engage in a fight in the middle of the museum. When the authorities attempted to reprimand you, you both decided to assult three of the officers, including Detective Inspector Lestrade." She told us. I could see the corners of her mouth turn upward slightly. I agreed, it was kind of funny.

The surveillance cameras had picked up everything. The news outlets had all covered it. Her smile might have been induced because she was one of the millions who had watched it all unfold. No one could get enough of the great Sherlock Holmes flying off the handle and attacking me over a simple word. None of the rumours were true, of course.

"If it makes the slightest bit of difference, I have apologised to Lestrade since then. His black eye has gone away." Sherlock muttered, hands together.

"Not really. Why was it that all of this happened anyways? I find the reason you gave, that you were fighting over a case you were working on, I find somewhat hard to believe."

I could have answered the question, but I didn't. I could have rattled off any number of things: Sherlock's mother, Sherlock's brother, Mycroft's stupid and weirdly expensive umbrella. Pretty much anything that involved that family. Had they not been so damn insistent of being a part of every aspect of our lives after we came out, I wouldn't have need that unsuspecting policeman in the groin for trying to pull me off of a vicious, venomous word spitting Sherlock.

"John?" He said softly. I loved when he said my name, usually. I loved him for the gods' sake. I'll be honest, I might have agreed to elope with him had I known that my proposal would cause this. "John?" The way he spoke reminded me of the many days that had lead up to this and the one in particular that caused it. 

"John?" Now, the unfortunate psychologist was tying to snap me out of my weird headspace where things were actually on the borderline of decent. 

"Sherlock and I are engaged to be married in December. It sounds like everything should be going partially smooth, but it hasn't been. The second that his family found out they turned into London's most dysfunctional circus. This, of course, was all before we were even comfortable enough to tell them that Sherlock is pregnant." I explained. "It has only been two and a half months and I am pretty sure I will need electric shock therapy when it is over."

Sherlock blew one of his dark brown curls out of his face. He knew that what I was saying was true, but he wasn't going to dive head first into the subject. I knew he wasn't a fan of his mother's overbearing bitch button and he certainly wasn't a fan of his meddling brother or that dammed thing he uses like a cane, that dammed thing that had left me with a few too many welts on my back as of late. I was never quite sure of who to listen to.

"It says here that your brother is THE Mycroft Holmes? I met him through my uncle who works for the British government as well. He is quite a guy. Being related to him must be something."

"Ga!" Sherlock shouted. "Have you really listened to him speak? He is awful."

"Maybe you two should just start from the beginning of the museum incident," She said, trying to change the subject.

"No, no, that won't work,"

"Or perhaps, Doctor Watson could explain what it is about your family that caused the two of you to get into a row?"

"Yeah? Okay, sure. It all started when we realised the only way we were going to be able to get any peace as a couple and plan our own wedding is in a public place where we are slightly harder to track." I began. "He mentioned that there might have been more to my issues. He said one little thing about me having anger issues lately. I went to walk away and he hit me. I am pretty sure that...I WAS NORMAL BEFORE I MET HIM! NOTHING THIS FUCKED UP EVER HAPPENED TO ME! NOTHING HAPPENED TO ME! PERIOD!" 

I was completely flushed at this point. I knew that I had been having blood pressure problems as of late, it didn't take Sherlock to point that out, it runs in my family, but I have been doing everything in my power to ignore it. I was full of rage and screaming at a therapist. Somehow, in some way, I knew I would pay for what I had said.

My head turned slightly. Sherlock's lips were parted, looking as if he were about to say something. He remained silent. I was in trouble.

"I didn't ask you to stay with me, the door has always been open. I was fine by myself before, I was fine all that time I was gone, I could have done it again at any time. You came back, you. Shame on you for making me fall in love with you. Too bad you didn't realise that life was better without me before your proposed!" Sherlock shouted. As he stood up, obviously to leave, I grabbed his hand. There was no way I could let a man like him walk out of my life like that.

Because, of course, I wasn't a damn fool. Sherlock was my end all, be all. Without him, and the baby growing inside of him, it was game over. I loved him, even when his hormones got the best of him after I said something stupid.

"Don't..." I muttered.

"Let go of me," He sighed, yanking his hand away.

"Mr. Holmes, you are required to remain in this room for the entire duration of your court ordered visit," Our therapist told him. 

He groaned rather loudly and returned to his seat. He was a petulant little princess when he wanted to be. And, that is not exactly to say I didn't deserve it.

"Sherlock, you know that I love you, and that I wouldn't change a thing. If I was given the oppourtunity to do everything over, I would make the same choices, but I might make a move earlier. I just, I am having a hard time dealing with your crazy family, my crazy family, and our friends."

Sherlock was still uneasy. He used his right index finger to dab at the tears forming in his eyes. I was a bloody idiot.

"And here I thought that I would have my hormones in check by now," He mumbled. "Stupid, stupid pregnancy."

"Probably not the best outlook to have at only three months," I interjected.

"Do not talk, I am still mad at you," He said, shaking his head. "If I were thinking logically I would have taken my ring off and told you to find a new home for it up your arse."

"Could we get back on track here?"

I ignored her. My focus was still on my pregnant fiance. "I will keep apologising if I have to, I will beg. When I heard you say you wanted to elop, I thought it was a terrible idea, but I keep going back to it now and that is why I turned into a nauseous, shaky man with an apparent anger management problem."

"I told you not to talk. Still, it would have been a smarter choice, could have kept them out of the whole thing. My offer is still on the table."

"We can't do that now, everyone has already been invited,"

Sherlock snarled. "So?"

"That isn't good, or nice,"

"Then let's make a deal?"

"Shoot on,"

"From this point forward, my mum does not get to pry her nose into our personal live, the 'umbrella corporation' will no longer be able to make or influence decisions for the wedding. I will take a more active role if I need to, since I haven't...at all...too much emotion and sentiment in a wedding."

"What is the catch?"

"You get to deal with her..."

I did not like the sound of that. I didn't want to deal with her anymore than he did. Still, I guess it depended on what he meant by deal with. There was always that chance that he would want to include her in our lives again. Hell, she would want the baby to be named after her.

"Seriously?"

He stood up again. This time he sat down in my lap. "Absolutely,"

"Deal with who?" The therapist asked.

"The Woman," Sherlock sang. "My...friend...I am actually quite happy with my John."

"What qualifies me for dealing with her?"

"You know how I get,"

"I am not telling her until after we are married,"

"Why not?" Sherlock frowned. "You don't trust me?"

"Not you that I don't trust..."

THE END?


End file.
